


all these things about me you never can tell

by theagonyofblank



Category: Legend of the Seeker, Warehouse 13
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/pseuds/theagonyofblank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka and HG, Cara and Kahlan, trapped in a tomb. Sort of. It's complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all these things about me you never can tell

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame this idea on [](http://mayireadtoday.livejournal.com/profile)[**mayireadtoday**](http://mayireadtoday.livejournal.com/), who wanted: Based on the [pic from #3](http://meetatgunpoint.livejournal.com/166799.html) \-- Cara/Kahlan ride again! Two former enemies now friends are stuck in a tomb running out of air! Maybe Myka and H.G. get possessed by Cara and Kahlan like in that Season 1 episode of LotS with the ghosts!

she doesn’t know how it happens.

one minute she’s trapped (with helena –

 _always with helena_ , and _now she will never know_ and _maybe that’s not such a bad thing_ )

in warehouse two, and the next –

 

 

/

the absence of the crickets’ usual cacophony is what startles cara awake.

she blinks her eyes open, pushing herself off the dirt ( _bare hands – where have her gloves gone?_ ) and looking to the night sky. it is much darker now, the only source of light being the campfire mere feet away, and a sudden chill creeps over her. ( _why is the air stale and the stars gone?_ )

she does not need to be a seeker to know that something is horribly wrong.

 

 

/

as it turns out, what she thought was the campfire is actually a torch, and what she thought was the sky is actually a stone ceiling. it feels impossibly stifling, and the thoughts that cross her mind range from _not another tomb_ to _is the air leaving me?_

it doesn’t help that her leathers have been replaced by flimsy fabric. (it doesn’t help, either, that the only leather she is currently wearing is light brown – this outfit is not becoming of a mord-sith; blood would show far too easily).

she wonders, briefly, if she has been recaptured by her sisters. but then, mord-sith are not gentle, and aside from the soreness in her muscles, she feels no pain, no bruising.

 _what sort of wizardry is this?_

anger surges inside her, hot and dangerous, and she vows to kill the wizard if he had a hand in this.

 

 

/

she doesn’t know how she’s missed it, but the important thing is that she finally _notices_.

(a slumbering form shrouded in darkness, on the other side of the tomb).

“kahlan?”

her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, but the confessor stirs, and cara feels relief, if only for a moment.

it doesn’t last.

 

 

/

 _this is not kahlan._

 

 

/

her first instinct is to reach for her agiels

(and no, they do not reassure her; mord-sith need no reassurances)

but they are not there, and she will never admit it, but –

 _it doesn’t matter_

— at least she can still fight.

 

 

/

 _what have you done with my agiels?_

her voice, though still unfamiliar, is unmistakably angry.

 _cara,_ the other woman says. _is that you?_

it does not sound like kahlan, yet there is something about the _way_ this woman says her name, the _way_ she looks at her, that reminds cara of the confessor.

but it cannot be, can it?

( _it is_ ).

 

 

/

it feels like days have passed.

what they have discovered is this:

cara does not like small spaces.

kahlan likes talking about feelings.

there is no way out.

(but then, they already know all of that).

 

 

/

what they don’t know is:

how they came to be in bodies other than their own,

what the strange, buzzing light that emitted from the odd, l-shaped object on the ground next to kahlan was,

(when kahlan had asked what she had done, cara claimed not to know – but she had pressed a button)

and there are also strange symbols on the walls, but neither of them can make sense of them.

 _sorcery,_ is what cara says, not for the first time, and the word tastes bitter on her tongue.

kahlan (and she doesn’t look like kahlan, but she _is_ her) looks at her apologetically, and it is almost a comfort.

 

 

/

they find a stone.

it is about the size of her hand and set into the wall, and they are both sure that if they press it –

 

 

/

at one point

(she doesn’t know which; it all seems the same to her, the passing of the minutes, slowing down or perhaps speeding up, and she thinks, _we could die here_ even though she has been trained never to give up),

cara turns to kahlan.

 _i want you to know—_

(her words echo off the walls, and it’s like déjà-vu)

but this time, kahlan smiles at her, reaches for her hand.

 _i know._

(it helps, that she does not have to say the words again).

 

 

/

they press the stone together, and it takes some effort, but it finally moves.

and then there is a great rumbling and the walls are shaking and the ground is moving and _why can’t she see?_

and then suddenly, all that matters is that kahlan’s hand is in hers, and

 _is this what friendship feels like?_

 

 

/

—her head is pounding, her eyelids heavy.

when she turns her head, she finds herself face-to-face with helena.

she’s unable to help the way her breath hitches, the way her heart speeds up,

and _of course_ helena chooses to wake up _right then_.

 

 

/

 _is there something you’d like to tell me, myka darling?_

helena’s voice is teasing (always teasing) and a smirk (always self-satisfied) has made its way to her face. myka follows helena’s gaze to their linked hands, and feels herself flush, even as she drops her hold instantly.

(she pretends helena’s following laugh doesn’t cause her heart to do leaps in her chest).

 

 

/

though neither of them knows _how_ they managed it, myka is glad they are both still alive and free of warehouse two.

 

 

/

the plane ride back to south dakota passes in silence.

occasionally (often), she thinks she can feel helena’s gaze on her, but as soon as she looks, she finds helena engrossed in her book.

she feels like she should say something, but no words come to mind.

 

 

/

helena is asleep.

myka finds herself staring at helena’s hands before she can catch herself.

 

 

/

 _you’re upset with me, for what i said earlier._

 _what? no, there’s nothing to be—_

she’s stopped by helena’s hands are on hers, and perhaps it is meant to be a comforting gesture, but myka feels her heart do double time and _why is she such a child around this woman?_

 

 

/

so she tells her the only way she knows how:

she turns her hand over, links their fingers together.

she’s rewarded with a brilliant smile.

 

 

/

 _don’t worry, myka. many of my lovers were women, too._

 

 _  
_


End file.
